


won't mind

by FaultyParagon



Series: Canon-Compliant/Canon-Rooted RWBY Fics [6]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, One-Sided Attraction, Romance, Volume 1 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 15:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon
Summary: Jaune cries sometimes when he thinks no one is looking. Pyrrha wants to help. She doesn't.





	won't mind

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly different take on a similar mood from _can't call it love_. The tone of this one is different. Blame the different soundtrack I'm listening to for this fic, compared to _ccil_. It's 100% aimless rambling, so don't expect it to make sense/fit into canon perfectly- it's more an exercise than anything.

won't mind

He tended to cry under the safety of his sheets- quiet, mouth stuffed with cotton and duvet and pillow. Sharp inhales of breath and staggered sobs were easily drowned out by Nora's sleep-talking. The only indicator that he was ever suffering was the trembling of the silhouette under a pile of bedsheets, strong shoulders just _so damn small _from that bed in the corner of the room.

He thought no one saw.

Pyrrha did, though.

She knew that he didn't like crying in front of the rest of them. He wanted to be strong- he wanted to prove himself. The insecurities ran deep within him, ever since his practically-comical start at Beacon. He didn't want to continue to show off his weakness. And yet, in every step he took, every practice match and combat test and essay and quiz, he showed that he just _wasn't ready for Beacon._

As she watched his shoulders shudder and shake, her fingers twitched, curled up by her cheek as she lay on her side. Strands of red fell into her line of sight, catching on long lashes as she blinked, the sleep drifting away from her eyes as green focused on a blond head bundled in bunches of bedsheets.

She wanted to reach out and comfort him. She wanted to hold him, to reassure him that he was doing alright. She wanted him to know she was there, she was ready to protect, support, care for him- that she loved him. Her warmth, rising up into her cheeks, the palm of her hand, heated under blankets- it could soothe him.

He didn't want to cry in front of her. She wished it wasn't so. She didn't mind if he cried.

_One day, I'll get up- I'll comfort him-_

He kept crying.

But she didn't get out of bed, instead just watching the tremors take over his silhouette, listening to quiet sobs, each exhale haggard and worn, inhales stuttering and fearful. And she watched, brows drawn together, following the line of his shoulders intersect the hair falling into her eyes, red against blue- blond hair grey in the darkness- _blink_\- _shudder- _the sobs petering out into weary rest- she thought over and over again, _One day, Jaune, I'll be strong enough- I'll tell you everything, I will, I-_

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments!


End file.
